


Jenny

by booksnchocolate



Category: Bandom, Marianas Trench, Real Person Fiction
Genre: 4+1 fic, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, fluff tho, mentions of drug use, mentions of eating disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:17:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1368601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksnchocolate/pseuds/booksnchocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Josh is sixteen and Matt is fourteen when they sleep together for the first time.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jenny

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Trigger warning for eating disorders, mentions of substance abuse, swearing, copious amounts of GAY
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.
> 
> **A/N:** Title from [Jenny](http://booksnchocolate.tumblr.com/post/80494279567/i-wanna-ruin-our-friendship-we-should-be-lovers) by Lily Sevin, which I highly recommend listening to before reading the fic. Concrit is lovely. Originally posted on [ FYJM](http://fuckyeahjoshandmatt.tumblr.com/post/80714274946).

 

Josh is sixteen and Matt is fourteen when they sleep together for the first time. They met in choir in September and have been inseparable for five months and three weeks when Matt’s mother hollers for him from the kitchen – he has a phone call. Matt takes the receiver, steeling himself for the voice on the other end of the line. Josh is almost unrecognizable over the phone. Matt can barely understand a word of what he’s saying, the breathy whisper a far cry from the raucous voice of the Josh he knows. But Matt knows something’s been up for months, so when Josh asks him to come over, Matt’s powerless to resist. He takes the stairs two at a time up to Josh’s room and stops dead at what he sees.

If Josh was unrecognizable over the phone, he’s even more so in person. There’s – there’s a skeleton where Matt’s best friend should be.  

“Hey, Matty,” Josh’s voice is a cracked whisper. Matt tries not to flinch at the broken sound spilling from chapped lips.

“Hi, Josh.” He doesn’t know what to say. “Are-” he swallows down  _you okay?_  because they both know there’s only one way that question ends. “Do you want me to get you anything?” he asks instead, more to fill the silence than because he expects a real answer.

From his vantage point in the doorway, he sees Josh swallow and even that looks like an effort. “No, just. Lie – lie down with me?”

Matt moves a little closer, unsure if he heard that right. “Did you just…?”

He trails off when he sees that Josh is no longer looking at him; instead, the other boy’s eyes are closed, like the very sense of sight is too much for him. Matt inches closer to the bed and gently, gently places one hand on the covers.

“Josh?”

Josh opens his eyes then and looks at him, and in the dull, sunken blue, Matt sees something he might call gratitude, if he knew the word. Whatever it is, it’s enough to encourage him to clamber awkwardly onto the bed and fling the covers haphazardly around his knees in a semblance of comfort.

Josh keeps his back to him and doesn’t say a word. Matt doesn’t press. Instead, he settles beside Josh, who is nothing but skin and bones beneath his t-shirt, and wishes he knew how to make it better. But he doesn’t, so he lies still and helps the only way he knows how.

***

Josh is eighteen and Matt is sixteen the next time it happens.

“They’re sending me to treatment,” Josh whispers, avoiding Matt’s eyes. That’s okay. Matt’s already memorized the hazy, pained look in Josh’s eyes, normal bright blue faded dull with drugs. His hands shake as he pulls up the covers. Matt wishes he could unsee this.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks quietly. He knows the answer.

“No,” Josh says, looking at him at last. His eyes are still breathtaking. “Stay.”

Matt lies down beside him without a word.

***

Josh has been in rehab for months. Matt knows because he’s been counting despite himself, despite the fact that he swore he wouldn’t miss Josh. It was an empty promise anyway. Matt’s world clenches when he gets the call. Josh is out. 

He’d never really touched Josh with intent before. Sure, there had been the occasional hugs and back pats like kids do, but Matt had always held back, scared that if he touched Josh too much, too hard, he would break irreparably. Matt doesn’t want to damage his best friend. He stands by the car outside the entrance to the hospital and waits, chewing a fingernail. His whole body thrums with nervous energy. He feels lightheaded. Soon.   
The doors open and Matt stops breathing. Josh looks - Josh looks good. He’s put on weight since he’s been in rehab, looking more like a person and less like the walking dead. There’s slight colour in his cheeks, and as he tosses his head back to swipe the hair out of his eyes. Matt sees the lift off his cheeks. He’s smiling.  

Josh looks at him and the world freezes. His eyes are bright again, shining in a way Matt had long since given up hope of seeing. Matt barely has time to draw breath before Josh all but tackles him in a crushing hug. Matt lets out a soft  _oomph_  at the contact, closing his eyes and burying his face in Josh’s neck, inhaling the scent of cotton and sweat, so heartbreakingly familiar. Josh’s arms are tight around him, body warm and solid against his, and Matt wishes he could freeze this moment and stay here forever.  At last Josh pulls back to look at him, and Matt has to look up to meet his eyes, blue, bright blue again. “It’s good to see you, Matty.”

Josh’s eyes are bright again and Matt couldn’t be happier. 

Josh’s parents drive them home and invite Matt to stay for supper and then, when it’s eleven and he shows no indication of leaving Josh’s room, the night. They bring up extra pillows from the downstairs sofa, which all end up in an unused heap by Josh’s door. Josh’s childhood bed is barely big enough to accommodate the two of them now, but somehow they manage, arms and legs tangling together beneath the sheets. Matt exhales in the darkness and wonders if Josh can feel the expansion of his lungs, the rapid beat of his heart. They’ve shared beds before, but something about this seems different,  _more_. Even through their pajamas, Matt feels every point of contact between their bodies, from his kneecaps resting against the backs of Josh’s legs to Josh’s ass brushing perilously close to his crotch, to the warm comfort of his chest against Josh’s back. Matt is suddenly aware this is the most physical contact they’ve had. Ever.

Josh seems to have no such qualms, breathing even and deep in the darkness.  Matt is abruptly hit with a wave of gratitude for this moment and everything it means. Josh is safe. Josh is here. Josh is alive. Matt’s eyes and throat burn with tears he can’t let out. He’s never been religious but he thanks God for Josh anyway.  _I almost lost you,_  he thinks, pressing closer to Josh in the dark. The enormity of that thought is too much to bear. Matt presses his forehead into the nape of Josh’s neck and throws an arm across his stomach, anchoring Josh to him.  _Please let me keep you. Please let me keep you safe._

_I love you._ Wait, what?

The days following that realization are pure hell. Matt is torn between wanting to spend every waking minute with Josh and not being able to look him in the eye. This goes on until Josh looks at him over lunch (which he’s eating now, Matt checked) and asks him straight up, “Matty, what’s wrong?”

Matt has a policy of never lying to Josh if he can help it.  Partly because lying to friends is shitty and partly because Josh always finds out sooner or later, and Matt has learned to head these things off at the pass. But for whatever reason, he can’t help it. “Nothing,” he says as blandly as he can manage, looking up to meet Josh’s eyes. “Why?”

“No reason,” Josh shrugs, dragging a fry through ketchup. “You seemed to be acting a bit odd. I wasn’t sure.”

“Naw,” Matt forces a smile, remembers to crinkle his eyes so it looks genuine. “Everything’s fine.” 

Josh smiles back and Matt’s swept away by the force of it (he is so, so doomed). “Good. Glad to hear it, Matty.”  He pauses to pop the fry in his mouth and swallow. “So, I’ve been thinking about starting a band.”

***

 They’re living in a van parked outside the studio. The floor is littered with sandwich wrappers and empty cans of Coke Zero. It’s not exactly luxurious living in a confined space with three other guys, but at least they never have to worry about heating. They’ve been recording demos until Matt’s fingers have blistered and his throat is raw. The guys aren’t in any better shape, but at least their stuff is starting to come together. Soon, Josh says, soon the execs at 604 will give them a chance. Sometimes, Matt finds it hard to believe him.  _I dropped out of college for this?_  he wants to ask. He keeps his mouth shut though.  Josh has been through too much; he doesn’t need Matt making things harder. Not now. 

They haven’t slept together since the night Josh got out of rehab, two years ago. Matt’s been keeping track despite himself.  He seems to be doing a lot of things despite himself lately. Like watching the way Josh pulls on his t-shirt in the mornings, covering up the blue of his veins under pale skin. Like catching himself staring when Josh licks his lips, tongue ring glinting in the light. Like watching the flutter of Josh’s lashes as he sings, like cataloging the dance of his fingers on his guitar and wondering how those fingers would feel dancing across his skin. Matt doesn’t know how much longer he can ignore this. He doesn’t keep any secrets from Josh, save this. It’s not bad yet, but every time Josh laughs at his jokes, every time he leans just a little too close, Matt feels himself inching closer to the breaking point. What if Josh asks him to quit the band? He feels sick. He can hide this. He has to. They won’t be stuck in the van forever.

That afternoon, Josh gets a call. They crowd around as his cell phone rings and he answers almost hesitantly.  “Hello?”

There’s a pause, absolute silence for the longest moment of Matt’s life. Then Josh’s eyes blow wide, and his mouth drops open. “We got the record deal! We got it!” 

***

It’s four years to the day that Josh came back from rehab. Things are good. They’re touring now; small tours admittedly, but they’ve got their first album out, and Shaketramp pretty much blew them out of the water. It’s going pretty well. 

Josh can’t sleep. 

“Matt,” he hisses from his bunk opposite the hall. “Matt.” 

“Whasup?” Matt struggles into consciousness.  “Josh? Go to sleep.”

“I fucking can’t,” Josh growls, flopping down on his mattress. 

Matt sighs. He knows that tone. He’s spent years remembering it. Better to give in now than try to hold out and make things worse. He’s almost too tired to care at this point, in a way that has nothing to do with the late hour (and everything to do with four years spent hiding from his best friend). 

“Come on, then,” he sighs and rolls out of bed, turning to Josh. “Move over.” 

Josh doesn’t say anything but complies, shifting onto his side so Matt can slide in and curl around him.

“Why are you always the big spoon?” Josh huffs softly as Matt settles in.

Matt yawns into Josh’s shoulder and doesn’t answer. “Sleep,” he mumbles instead, closing his eyes. 

“Okay,” Josh says, and then, just as Matt s drifting off to sleep, “Thanks, Matty. For everything.” 

_I love you, Josh_ , is Matt’s last conscious thought before sleep claims him.

He doesn’t mean to say it out loud. 

When he wakes up, the world is good. Matt wants to spend forever in this moment, listening to Josh breathe, his body warm and pliant in Matt’s arms. And then Josh shifts around, his blue eyes open and Matt is pinned beneath the weight of his gaze. 

“Did you mean it?” he whispers.

Matt can’t breathe. He can’t think. His whole body is suddenly charged with adrenaline, crackling white hot through his veins like lightning. “I- I-” he tries to speak but words aren’t coming. “I can’t do this.”  
He has to get out. Heart in his throat, Matt does the only thing he can think of: he runs. 

He catapults out of the narrow bunk, ignoring Josh’s pained grunt as Matt’s foot connects with his leg. 

"Where the fuck are you going?" Josh cries or tries to. It comes out more like  _whrtfckmmphug_ because Matt has thrown the covers over his head in his desperate rush to escape. Josh flails out from under the blankets but Matt’s already stumbling away, heart beating double-time, and beyond caring about anything except the fact that he has to escape. He leaps into his bed and draws the curtains like armour; and when he hears Josh pacing outside the bunk, he faces the wall and counts the minutes until Josh’s footsteps fade away. 

***

Matt’s lying in his bunk, curled up facing the wall when the world ends. It’s been three days since the Josh Incident, and Matt has gone to excess lengths to avoid the man in question.  He can’t even be in the same room as Josh, excuses bubbling to his lips like the nausea that bubbles in his gut when he thinks about what he’s done. Matt swallows hard and shivers, pulling the blankets tighter around himself as if he can protect himself from the memory of what he’s done. Four years. Four fucking years of lies and hiding all for nothing, all destroyed in the blink of an eye. Shame burns low in the pit of his stomach, echoing the hot, desperate fire behind his eyes. Matt presses his face into the pillow as another shiver wracks his body, wishing he could just suffocate himself and block out the world. This is the worst he’s ever felt in his life. Josh going into rehab had been bad, but this.  _He’s going to hate me. Josh is going to hate me._

Matt closes his eyes.  
   
His self-deprecating tirade is abruptly cut off as the curtain is pulled back and a warm weight settles next to him on the narrow bunk. Matt freezes, his whole body going stiff with tension.

"What the fuck?" he wants to ask but he barely gets the first word out before his throat closes and suddenly he’s coughing like his body is trying to shake itself apart. 

“Woah, woah, easy,” he hears a voice say over his own hacking.  And shit. Just when he thought this couldn’t get any worse.

Josh is in bed with him.

Josh is in bed with him and Matt wants to die.

The coughing subsides slowly and between pained gasps for breath, Matt becomes aware of Josh. In bed. With him. He can feel where Josh’s knees are pressed up under his and where Josh’s crotch is in fact right up against his ass. This nearly sets off a whole new round of coughing but Matt swallows hard and forces himself to breathe. 

The mattress dips as Josh settles more comfortably against him. “You know worrying yourself sick is an expression, right, and not actually something you’re supposed to do.”

"Well I built up a pretty fucking big tolerance worrying over you all these years." Oops. Matt wasn’t supposed to say that. He closes his eyes, hoping against hope that this is all just a fever-dream and when he opens them, Josh will be gone.

No such luck.

Josh shifts against him on the mattress, one arm coming around to flop over Matt’s chest and rest against his sternum. Slowly, Josh uncurls his fingers, until his palm is flat against Matt’s heart, a little like apology, a little like redemption.  “Why are you doing this?”

Josh doesn’t answer for a long moment. “You’re an idiot,” he says at last, but his tone is soft enough that Matt thinks the words might mean something else entirely.  If he lets them.

There’s silence after Josh speaks and Matt thinks maybe then that he gets it, that he gets a little of what this intimacy, this closeness means for him, for the two of them. Sure, they’ve shared beds before but it’s the first time Josh has ever done this for him. It’s the first time Matt has been on the receiving end of comfort like this; the first time he’s ever been vulnerable in front of Josh. After so long spent being the strong one, the composed one, the one keeping everything together, this is… Matt doesn’t know how to deal with this. He hasn’t been this vulnerable in ages. He can’t remember how to be. 

"Shut up," Josh says like he can read Matt’s thoughts. "Let me do this."

And.  And there’s not really much Matt can say to that.

Josh huffs against him and Matt feels the expansion of his chest against his back.  “Breathe, Matty, come on.”

Josh is warm against him, keeping the shivers at bay. Matt nestles back against him instinctively and Josh sighs softly like he knows exactly what Matt is doing.

It takes a while for Matt to find his voice again. “You – I’m not out of the band?”

“What?” Josh’s hold on him tightens fractionally. “Fuck, no. Where’d you get that idea?”

“You don’t hate me?” The words are a mere whisper but Matt feels Josh’s sharp inhale against his back.

“Matty. I could never hate you. Jesus.” Josh strokes a thumb across the fabric of Matt’s shirt. “Never.”

Matt sighs softly and lets himself finally – finally – relax. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Josh says. Matt feels lips brush against his neck and he smiles despite himself. Maybe they can get through this.

"M gonna give you cooties," he mumbles sleepily.

Josh snorts softly, nuzzling against him. “Go to sleep, Matty.” 

Matt closes his eyes and falls asleep to the rhythm of Josh’s breath.


End file.
